Alive
by fountainwishess
Summary: He's alone now; he's very aware how alone he is when he can't hear Derek's roars filling the air. And knowing that Derek is otherwise incapacitated is greatly lowering his odds of coming out of this alive. Hell, he's dying tonight. There is absolutely nothing that he won't do at this point.


He's not entirely sure what happened when the…_it_ cocks its head to the side with an unmistakable smirk, clearly signifying that Stiles is next. His head turns frantically in the direction in which he last saw Derek flying through the air and he's silently begging the werewolf to pop out of the shrubbery and attack the supernatural creature with his teeth – something Lydia had dubbed the Acheri after extensive research on creepy little girls that sometimes flash black eyes and have supernatural strength. A demon. Stiles had been easily drawn in by the innocence of the little girl until she started targeting specific members of his pack, showing up in random places, and generally acting like one of those demons Stiles once watched on an episode of Charmed. Except she was different, alone, definitely not as strong as werewolves. _Wolves_ being the key word there. Not much a single alpha and a human could do against her powers. Especially when she sheds her human form like a skin and turns into this scaly being with four arms and a tail that whipped Stiles in the face not five minutes ago.

It's with a telltale sink of his stomach when he sees the lump form of his, for all intents and purposes, alpha lying motionless on the forest floor.

He quickly barrel rolls out of the way as the demon charges at him, breathing heavily as his back lands roughly against the base of a tree. This new position is not going to help him in the long run, especially as he is being shown just how weak he is against something that runs so fast, it turns into a blur. Okay Stiles, _think. _He's read so much information over the past forty-eight hours and there had to have been _something_ that he read that could help him. He's alone now; he's very aware how alone he is when he can't hear Derek's roars filling the air. And knowing that Derek is otherwise incapacitated is greatly lowering his odds of coming out of this alive. Hell, he's dying tonight. There is absolutely nothing that he won't do at this point.

Derek was always there, in one form or another. He can no longer count the times that Derek has rushed in to save him on one hand, and to come to the realization that Derek was not going to be making sure he ended the night alive was causing the adrenaline to turn into a fully fledged panic attack. He relies on the older werewolf far too often to be considered normal, and it figures that the one time he really _really_ needs his untimely appearance is when he's inches away from death. He'd gladly take all the times he found him lurking in the shadows of his room for Derek to show up at that moment. There has got to be _something_ that he can do instead of panicking like the weak human he is.

His pocket. Salt.

With breaths coming out in short, erratic spurts, his shaking hands reach into his pocket, wincing as the cuts on his skin make contact with the rough fabric of his jeans. There wasn't much a plastic baggy could do against a demon with the power to become fucking _invisible_, but Deaton had always told him that salt was a universal protective barrier with few exceptions. Considering Scott's tendency to steal his extra salted curly fries straight from his plate with his unfair reflexes, werewolves must have been one of those exceptions. And with a deep breath, Stiles prayed that demons were not.

He had to distract her. And there was only one thing Stiles had a knack of doing above everything else. Every villain loved their chance to deliver a monologue about their intentions right before they _thought_ they were going to produce the fatal blow and all he had to do was keep her talking so he could make his circle. He was good at circles.

"So what," he called out, his back still flat against the tree as his long fingers moved quickly. He was clumsy but when it came to his life, he was not going to take any chances. "Take out the human and then what? Derek's over there unconscious and there's only so much I can do against a creepy Demon girl who likes to con innocent boys with her hair flips and playground games." He was still ashamed over the hour he spent playing tag with her, pretending that he was slower than she so he wouldn't win.

It laughed, the rumble sounding deep and eerie after spending time with the little girl and her sugary sweet voice. But then again, he's seen weirder.

"You were the key to the puzzle, Stiles. I could tell right away that you were the glue keeping that pack together. Kill you and it will be so much easier to work my way through the chaos."

He was barely listening, his fingers working the powder around him, eyes darting to the white line to make sure there were no gaping holes. No point in finding out why he needed to die if this wasn't going to work.

"Though your boyfriend is very adamant on making sure you aren't touched."

At that, his hands stopped and his teeth gritted together. The demon wasn't in his sights but it didn't need to be. It would hear him. "He's protective of his _pack_. He would do the same for everyone else. And for the love of God, he is not my boyfriend!"

It laughed again. "Too bad he's not getting in the way again. I rather like the challenge." Before Stiles even had a chance to blink, the blur landed in front of him and he had to just stop the urge to squeeze his eyes shut before he realized that it worked. His motherfucking plan worked. So far, at least. It backed up, one of its arms reaching out for him. It was clear that it could not pass the invisible barrier that the salt made around. "Clever, Stiles. Very clever. I knew I liked you for a reason. However, minor flaw in the plan." The clawed hand at the end of the arm touched the barrier of salt and he could hear the sizzling and smell the horrific scent of burning flesh, but he didn't dare take his eyes off of its face.

He waited, holding his breath, the hand that was holding the remaining salt and mountain ash clenching tighter at his side. He'd need every molecule of NaCl that he could get and he'd only have a split second to carry out the final part of his plan. Finding out just how vulnerable the demon was to his salt mixture made him much more confident. He jutted his chin out, staring at its black, black eyes.

Its mouth twisted, a tongue poking through its lips as it felt the effect of the salt to skin. It had broken the line and he might die, but he also might not. The demon's eyes flickered down to the line and Stiles took his chance.

With a surge of adrenaline, Stiles used the tree to launch himself at the demon, his hand loosening with stiff muscles to allow the salt to drizzle over its face, right into its mouth. One of its arms closed against his throat, tightening and immediately constricting the flow of air and he kicked, kicked at everything and anything with his dwindling energy as he felt rather than saw another arm sock him right in the gut.

Any oxygen in his body was completely gone. He vaguely noticed the edges of his vision turning black and his throat making a few last attempts to grab at the air, before he was falling to the ground, landing painfully on a root, greedily drawing in lungful's of oxygen as he curled in on himself.

It had vanished.

He lie there for a moment, one hand gingerly reaching up to the base of his throat. He felt the ridges in his skin that the monster made but none of that mattered much.

Stiles was alive. The demon was gone.

"Derek!" he croaked, ignoring the stabs of pain in all parts of his body as he scrambled to his feet and ran in the general direction of his fallen comrade. He pushed his way through brambles and fallen branches and ignored the rips of the skin in his legs as he dropped to his knees next to Derek. His breathing was shallow, his pulse slow. They were both alive, but as he glanced down at his stomach, he had to fight back the vomit that threatened to escape as the large gashes in his flesh refused to heal. Was that Derek's intestines that he was staring at? They were both alive, but just barely.

"Wake up, Jesus fucking Christ, wake your pretty ass up or you're going to bleed out in this forest and –" He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, ignoring the smell of the blood that would not stop flowing. It wouldn't stop until the werewolf was conscious, and for the second time in many months, Stiles reeled back his hand and allowed his fist to connect painfully with the side of the Alpha's face.

He's immediately leaning over Derek's head, bruised hands on either side of his face, when the werewolf's eyes pop open. He tries to hide the sigh of relief. He really does.

"Honestly, I thought we were going to be making negotiations with a six year old girl." His voice is rough and gravely as if he hasn't spoken in weeks. His entire body feels as though it's on fire, there is blood dripping onto Derek's chest from the gash in the side of his face, but he can visibly see Derek's skin heeling. "That's the only reason I came with you because we _all_ know you are more of the claw and fang type of person…wolf. Which I'm thankful for or I wouldn't be alive right now."

"That's not –" he chokes out and Stiles uses what little energy he has left to lift Derek's shoulders off the ground and pull him into a sitting position. He'd be lying if he denied making that small whimper as his muscles protested the very movement but the sight of Derek's pale face pushed him onward.

"What? It's gone. It vanished with a very comical puff of smoke, although I'll admit it wasn't very funny when it was trying to claw my face off but some things need a little bit of humor in order to move on." Stiles can tell that even though he's not saying anything, Derek wants him to shut the hell up already.

"That's not why you came with me."

"W-what?" He sputters, because Derek should not be able to read him that well, even despite all the time they spent together. "Of course that's why I came with you."

"I told you no and you came along anyways. Do you ever listen?"

"If I wasn't here you'd be dead."

"I could smell the worry. It was like –"

"Your guts aren't going to fall out, are they? Because I draw the line at touching organs. I'll saw your arm off, sure, but I am not putting your guts back."

"Stiles." Derek's hand lifted to the side of his face, his thumb gently touching the edge of the long cut. Stiles was too busy staring at the faintly glimmering red in his eyes to notice that the painful ache was turning into a dull throb. "I care about you too."

"What? You're incapable of feelings, why are we even talking about feelings…what the hell did you do!" Stiles eyes caught on the vanishing veins of black that were retreating underneath Derek's ripped t-shirt. The werewolf shrugged, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the back of his neck. Stiles tried not to think about what the action was doing to his _own_ guts.

"I took your pain away."

"And you gave it to yourself? No, no you're in enough pain with the contents of your stomach being shown off to the world, you don't need any more pain! I can handle it, I'm not weak."

"Stiles, shut up."

The hand on the back of his neck pulled him roughly forward. He yelped but the sound was drowned out by Derek's mouth.

Derek fucking Hale was kissing him.

Those sounds turned into small whimpers as his own hands slid up the werewolf's chest, gently finding skin with his fingertips through the rips. He had spent months fantasizing about touching that skin and it all seemed so surreal to be doing it now. Damn Derek Hale and his unfairly chiseled chest. And also the personal torture he inflicted on Stiles every time he pranced around without a shirt.

The kiss was gentle. There was no hurry to rip clothing off of the other, no sudden movements to jostle any of their injuries. Just the soft movement of lips against lips until Stiles' mouth was coaxed open by Derek's tongue. His moans were smothered as Derek licked into his mouth and there was a delicious tingle as Derek's stubble rubbed against the sensitive skin of his face. It felt like hours had passed before Derek was pulling away with a slight pressure of teeth against Stiles' bottom lip.

It took a few minutes for Stiles' voice to work again but he was the first to talk. Of course he was the first to talk.

"As far as first kisses go, that was spec-fucking-tacular."

Derek snorted and there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. That was a laugh! Stiles made him laugh! He wondered if he could do it again.

"I shouldn't be surprised that that was your first kiss, but somehow I am."

"I'm full of surprises, Sourwolf. It keeps you on your toes." He snorted again and Stiles' stomach flipped over as he rose to his feet.

"Help me up, would you."

"What, no congratulatory sex on the ground?"

"_Stiles_."

"Alright, alright. Baby steps. I get it. Excuse me for trying to take advantage of a helpless werewolf."

"Even on my worst day, I could rip your –"

"Throat out with your teeth. I heard that line before, grumpy." He slipped his hand into Derek's, his other hand reaching under his armpit as he tugged the wall of muscle and bone into a standing position. He didn't do much; there wasn't much he _could_ do, but he did eventually get Derek upright, even if the werewolf had a heavy arm flung over Stiles' shoulders. He relished the touch in his own masochistic way, even going so far as to wrap his arm around his waist with a sideways glance at his face.

"I don't think you're weak," Derek said a few minutes later as they slowly made their way back to the Jeep. Stiles hadn't realized how far away they had wandered into the forest until he was trying to lead an injured werewolf back to where they started. The weight Derek was leaning on him was becoming less the longer they walked until Stiles believed that he was no longer using Stiles as a crutch and was merely touching him to touch him. Stiles' own fingers were looped into Derek's belt loop, his thumb brushing against the warm skin above his jeans after it slipped under his shirt. "I didn't think you needed to feel the pain because I'm a dumbass."

"You are a dumbass." There was a tight squeeze of his shoulder.

"Is that _all_ you got out of that?"

"Naturally." He grinned, side eying his werewolf almost boyfriend and was completely shocked to see Derek smiling back. "Are you going to kiss me again?" There was a moment of silence as Derek seemed to be contemplating the question. It was a good thing he was being held up by a very coordinated guy or else he'd have fallen over at the answer he received.

"At the car. On the way home. In your room, more specifically on your bed."

He swallowed.

They were alive. Thank God they were alive.


End file.
